Page 2 of The Hawk and the Nightingale

Iveta grasped Amalie’s hand and squeezed it, then she disappeared into the storeroom. Amalie took a breath to steady her nerves, and approached her lone patron.

“Good evening,” she said. “I’m the owner of this shop. May I help you?”

“You often help jackasses?” He turned around, and Amalie understood why he was called The Hawk. His nose was long and elegant, his features refined, and eyes were such a pale blue they pierced you like shards of ice. He very much resembled a raptor swooping down onto his prey.

Amalie wondered if she was his intended prey. We will just see about that.

“I have very good hearing,” Hawk continued.

“What a wonderful gift,” she murmured. “Please forgive Iveta for sending you the damaged items. My wares are delicate, and things often break in the course of the day. I understand that nothing was your fault.”

“Perhaps not, but her letter indicated that the music coming from my club shook the very foundations of your establishment,” he said. “I believe her exact words were, ‘the bass is turned up so loud it’s like a chorus of baboons screaming about how stupid they are’.”

Amalie sucked in her lips to keep from laughing. “I will speak to Iveta about using less confrontational language.”

“Don’t be harsh with her,” Hawk said, with a dangerously handsome smile. “I have come to offer you my apologies, and make what restitution I can.”

Cold sweat bloomed across Amalie’s chest. “No restitution is needed,” she said quickly. “Your apology is more than sufficient. Thank you, for delivering it in person.”

The Hawk took a step toward Amalie. She held her ground, barely. “I must disagree. Please, come to my club tomorrow night as my guest. I would like the chance to prove to you that I am more than a baboon screaming about my stupidity.”

“I don’t know,” Amalie said, shaking her head.

“Please, little nightingale.”

“Nightingale?” she repeated. “Why did you call me that?”

“On occasion, at night, I have heard you sing.”

“But where did you hear that name?” she pressed.

“It’s what the locals call you,” Hawk said, as he took a step back. “I’m sorry, I meant no offense. Is it not a name you go by?”

“It is, though I haven’t used it in some time.” Amalie watched as Hawk’s brows knit together; he was genuinely perplexed by her reaction. Normally she didn’t mind being referred to by her old moniker, but Hawk’s sudden appearance had put her on edge. She wondered if he’d been sent by her ex-lover, Marek.

Don’t be ridiculous. Amalie hadn’t heard mention of Marek in so long, their relationship may as well have been a lifetime ago. What’s more, ever paranoid Iveta had looked into Hawk’s background as soon as he purchased his first property. If there had been there merest hint of Hawk associating with Marek, Iveta would have relocated them to Siberia, rather than risk a confrontation with the evil, sadistic man that once shared her bed.

Iveta had found nothing even remotely suspicious about The Hawk, much to her disappointment, but Amalie had been glad. Now, as Hawk stood over her with his broad shoulders and a gaze that set off sparks in her core, she was very, very glad. It had been a long time since a man had made her feel anything, though it would be wiser to ignore these new, intense emotions Hawk brought out in her.

When had Amalie ever claimed to be wise?

“It’s fine,” she said at last. “You just surprised me.”

Hawk grinned, and she decided she liked the spark. In fact, she wanted to fan that tiny flame and see what came of it. “Was it a good surprise?”

“It was,” Amalie replied. “Have you any more planned?”

“A few, but only if you accept my invitation.”

“Then, I suppose I must accept. Tomorrow night it is.”

Chapter Two

Hawk - Prague, Present Day

The next evening, Hawk stood next to the entrance of the Moravian Ballroom, eagerly awaiting Amalie’s arrival. He’d long been intrigued by the shopkeeper next door, but gleaning information about her had been all but impossible, and for Hawk nothing was impossible. Money and influence were the best ways to acquire what one wanted, and he wielded both like an expert swordsman. And yet, information about Amalie had eluded him.

Her glassware shop, Bohemian Delights, was known throughout Prague as one of the best places to source both antique crystal and modern pieces in all of Europe. Add to her varied inventory her immense knowledge about her products, and it would be foolish to purchase crystal elsewhere, which, he imagined, made her business quite lucrative. Compounding the mystery was that her shop made almost all of its sales after dark.

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